


The Fractured and Fallen Sky

by Sarcasticmissy



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, First Time, M/M, Whitechapel Big Bang 2013, brief mention of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasticmissy/pseuds/Sarcasticmissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first body is discovered on a Thursday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fractured and Fallen Sky

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not appear anything like the final product without the amazing help of my beta, saizine! Also many thanks to phantomreviewer for general discussions, to clumsyfingers for organising this bigbang and to my friends at work who allowed me to kill them without knowing why.

The first body is discovered on a Thursday morning, a woman taking her usual route through the park making the grim find, the half clothed body lying on the grass verge near the castle walls. The park becomes a hive of activity with officers guarding the scene and SOCOs searching for evidence and throughout it all, he watches.

***

The second body is found in the Victorian bandstand, a hundred yards from the first victim and five days later, positioned just the same: arms spread wide, legs tight together and their hair fanning out, the angelic pose at odds with the pain left on their faces.

The post-mortems find evidence they had both been tortured beforehand, cuts - both deep and shallow - found on their arms and legs. The cause of death is given as drowning for both women. There is also evidence of smaller scratches on their skin and dirt on their clothes hinting at how they came to be deposited at Colchester Castle and its grounds. One small detail also noted, almost as an afterthought and jotted by the side of the report, by the pathologist is that both women have large moles on their faces.

***

Emerson is typing away, completing the outstanding statements always required and always being chased, thinking that this is a perfect time to catch up as things are suspiciously quiet for their area right now. He can feel the glare of Mansell hitting the side of his face as he continues typing quickly and efficiently, and can’t help a little smirk as he hears the two fingered clanking of keys emanating from beside him, the classic ‘I’m too manly to need to know how to touch type’. It’s the little things sometimes.

He hears the door go behind him and raises his head in time to catch Buchan striding through between the team’s desks, heading for the DI’s office. Emerson catches enough of a glimpse to see Ed’s face and just knows that when that door opens again, a new case is going to be presented to them. Although ploughing through paperwork is a vaguely satisfying feeling, he can’t help but want something new to get to grips with, the feel of a new case still exciting, even after his years working here.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, the door is open and Chandler is standing in front of them, stating there is a case in Colchester that Buchan believes is worthy of the team travelling there and offering their assistance.

Miles interrupts before Buchan can start up. “We might need to contact Essex before blasting down there and trampling on toes that might not very well want to be trampled on. They’re not going to be happy about us invading their turf without good reason.”

“I realise that, Miles,” Joe says, “However, if you let Buchan speak, you will see that they may well want our help.”

“Fine, out with it then.”

Buchan walks to the front of the room, standing in front of the large whiteboards and looking out at the assembled group, clears his throat and starts to speak.

“I have been looking through the papers, keeping an eye out for any unusual or interesting cases that may pop up. I happened to notice that in the space of a week, two bodies have been discovered, posed, in the grounds of Colchester Castle. Both victims had been tortured before being drowned and if you happen to know your history, like I do, then you can begin to piece together what may turn out to be quite a disturbing theory.” Ed opens his little beige folder, loose papers flapping, as he pulls out an image of an strange looking man and sticks it on the board behind him.

“I’ll start at the beginning. During the seventeenth century, a man by the name of Matthew Hopkins rose to fame, as it were, in East Anglia, specifically Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex. He gave himself the name Witchfinder General and is believed to have been responsible for the deaths of three hundred women in a two year period, making a career out of the torture and killing of women. He employed various methods to try and obtain a confession, including cutting the women to see if they would bleed, trying to find the witch’s mark and the swimming test. He would tie the women to a chair and throw them in water believing that if they floated they were a witch. His main base for the torture and obtaining of confessions was Colchester Castle.” Buchan stops his explanation, almost as if to pause for effect, and Emerson glances across to Meg, eyes rolling in unison. He likes Buchan but he could take or leave the dramatics that always come with this type of thing and Mansell clearly feels the same from the huff of breath that hits his ear.

“I believe that someone in Colchester is re-enacting the work of Matthew Hopkins and I believe that if we talk to Essex Police, we may come across further information that confirms my theory,” Buchan concludes then turns to Chandler, who had been leaning against his door frame, taking all the information in again and now wanders out in the main office.

“Right, I’m going to try and discuss this with Anderson, see if we can’t get the team sent to Colchester for a couple of days whilst trying not to tread on anyone’s toes.” Joe looks to Miles then, an acknowledgment of his thoughts earlier, and gets a nod in return.

Emerson watches Chandler head back into his office, Miles following as Buchan heads back to the depths of the basement and wonders if they’ll be getting a free trip soon.

***

Hours pass and Emerson continues his catch up, clearing emails and getting rid of the random papers on his desk that inevitably need to be sent elsewhere. He feels a gentle tap on his arm and looks around, smiling face of Meg looming over him, a cup of tea being held out.

“You look like you need one. Take a five minute break from paperwork, Emerson. Seriously.”

He takes the cup gratefully, allowing the hot china to warm his fingers, stiff from typing and being forever stationed in a cold office, heating still waiting to be turned on regardless of the plummeting temperatures outside. Perks of working for the government, being able to freeze your balls off and get paid for the privilege.

“Thanks, Meg, didn’t realise I needed this.”

“Yeah, well, you had the look of a man going slowly insane earlier, figured I should try and stop that.” Meg grins at him, hands cupping her own tea protectively. “You reckon we’ll head off to check this case out? It would make a change after the dearth of good crime around here lately.”

Emerson glances across at Mansell as he wanders over and joins in their conversation. “I reckon Guv will get us on this case, he looks as bored as we feel and it does sound like a right possible doozy. Some nice new ladies in a brand new place I can try to tempt over to my side, as well.”

Meg and Emerson look at each other, eyes rolling all over the place at Mansell’s words, but before Emerson can start to speak, Chandler and Miles come back into the office.

“We’ve cleared it with the investigating team in Colchester. We are going to head down for a couple of days and see if we can help. They weren’t that impressed so let’s all be on our best behaviour when we’re there, okay?” Nods and grunts all around before Chandler speaks again.

“ Also, we are all going to head down there, the quiet period here meaning the Commander was fine with letting the entire team leave for a short while, at least. Miles, Riley, you both okay with heading away from the families for a few days?” Chandler looks at both of them for confirmation.

Miles answers first, a hint of a relieved smile emerging as he realises that means several nights free of baby related clearing up and sudden awakenings. “I’ll discuss with Judy but it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before, even with the new baby.”

“I should be fine sir, my hubby can look after the children by himself for a day or two,” Riley replies.

“Excellent. Right, we’ll be leaving here and heading down there tomorrow morning, bright and early everyone.”

Emerson groans slightly at that. Mornings are definitely not his speciality, even after several years doing shifts. Joe looks at him and smiles in sympathy, and Emerson can’t help but smile back, before ducking his head away.

***

They travel to Colchester early, their train leaving Liverpool Street at half six which had led inevitably to early tubes and a very grumpy Emerson arriving on the main concourse, seeking out a large coffee before seeking out his teammates.

They ignore him, used to his behaviour by now and aware that he’s not fully human until the large drink in his hand is consumed. Meg and Miles on the other hand are clearly morning people, always chattering away at work regardless of time of day, which Emerson resents somewhat, and they’re no different this morning. No one should be that lively this time of day.

Chandler arrives last, a small holdall over his shoulder, and with that, they board the train.

At this time of the morning and heading out of London, the train isn’t busy so they can have their pick of seats, all choosing to sit slightly away from each other. They know that they’re going to be shoved together for the next few days and this is their last bit of freedom.

Emerson sticks his headphones in, podcasts lulling him to a half-sleep, head resting against the window and bumping every time they pass another train.

Meg is still chatting away but to Buchan this time, sitting across from each other, discussing various local histories of Essex. Meg quite likes the stories that Ed can bring up at the drop of a hat, even though she wouldn’t necessarily admit that to the others, and she’s always thought it’s quite nice to actually know something about where you’re visiting.

Mansell has his legs propped up on the seat in front of him, trying to sleep but not finding much success. Instead he half listens to Meg and Ed, half listens to Miles and Chandler then fumbles around with his phone, determined that Candy Crush Saga is not going to beat him this time.

Chandler sits across from Miles, quietly discussing the case for a while before conversation ceases and both allow their eyes to wander.

Chandler looks around the carriage, pleased to see not many people inhabiting it, glad it’s mostly just his team, though he’s not sure he could explain why. He glances from team member to team member, relieved that they are back to normal after the events of the last few months. He glances at Kent for a few long seconds then looks away, eyes drifting towards the landscape quickly passing them by.

Miles just watches Joe, sees the way his gaze sticks on Kent and sighs, just knowing this is going to come to a head sooner or later.

***

They arrive at the station at half seven, make it outside to the taxi rank and are met and greeted by the Senior Investigating Officer of the case, who introduces himself as Jack Francis. They give their own introductions then Jack states there is a conference room booked for ten am in the police station. They’re told they can have a couple of hours to check in to their hotel and freshen up, before they have to go to the station and meet the rest of the team and be briefed.

Emerson and the rest of the team take the offer gladly and head off to the hotel booked for them. Buchan has arranged it, only saying that he knew the perfect place to stay whilst here and that no, it wasn’t too expensive, stopping Chandler’s question before it has even had chance to form.

They arrive at said hotel, the Red Lion, smack bang in the centre of town and book in, the hotel generously allowing them to get to their rooms early. Clearly whatever Buchan had said was working wonders. Emerson heads up the winding stairs to room five, followed by Chandler, who stops at the room next door to Emerson’s. Joe looks across at him and asks if he’s okay. It’s a pleasant return to how they were before Morgan, Chandler having been that little bit closed off, especially towards him and Emerson grabs at the offer of normalcy with open hands.

“I’m fine, just tired. I’m quite intrigued by this case though, sir.”

“Indeed. If Ed is correct in his theory, it certainly sounds like one of our strange cases. Here’s hoping that we can catch the killer before he strikes again.”

“We can but hope, sir.”

And with that, Emerson turns to open his door and goes to head inside, just turning back again to say goodbye to Joe.

***

After a twenty minute nap, a cup of tea and a bacon roll from the restaurant downstairs, Emerson feels vaguely normal again and ready for absorbing the large amounts of information that are inevitably going to be told to him in the next hour or so. He heads to the main reception to find that Joe is the only one ready, besides himself.

“Sir.”

“Kent, feeling human again?”

“I am sir, thanks.” Emerson’s not really sure what to say, mundane conversation isn’t really his forte but he wants to keep this going, a naturalness between them that had been missing for three months and just a mere hint of it makes Emerson feel happier.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about Mor-” Joe is interrupted by the rest of the team coming down the stairs, louder now they’ve had caffeine, food and a rest. Joe keeps looking at him for a moment then glances away, starts talking to Buchan as Emerson sees Miles’s eyes flit between him and Chandler. He’s not sure what Joe was going to say but in a way, he’s glad the team arrived. He’s not sure if he wants the ghost of Morgan brought up yet anyway.

***

They arrive at the station and are quickly ushered from the front desk into the conference room, already filled with officers from the investigating team. Jack stands at the front, the white boards covered with photos of the sweet looking girls and the haunting images of them on morgue trays.

“Right, firstly a welcome to the team from Whitechapel. Introductions will be done later but just know they’re here to try and help, not to interfere, okay?”  
A few of the detectives turn their heads to look at them, Chandler keeps his face still and unresponsive but Mansell grins widely at them and Emerson can feel his face burn at the obvious stares, some of them feeling hostile already.

“To bring everyone up to speed, here’s what we know. Two bodies have been found, both located in the vicinity of the Castle grounds. Both bodies were positioned the same - face up, arms spread out and legs pressed close together. We know that this was a dump site as both victims killed by drowning elsewhere and then moved here. We suspect that the perp drove down the side of the park and transported the victims into the park by depositing the body over the fence then climbing over himself to arrange the bodies. There were scuff marks in the dirt near the left hand side fence, not enough to obtain any usable imprint of a shoe but it gives an indication of how he is managing to dump the bodies in a locked park. There is evidence of dirt on their clothes and small traces on their skin, as well as small scratches. However it also seems that he brushed the debris off as much as he could before arranging the bodies, which could indicate that he didn’t want them to look untidy or dirty when found.” Whilst Jack is talking, he’s passing out folders full of information to each officer, including Emerson and the rest of the team.

“The pathologist has confirmed cause of death as drowning. There are marks and bruises on the bodies which seem to indicate that they were tied to something, possibly a chair, when they died. There is nothing to indicate that he held them down to drown them so that’s another possible line of enquiry.

“The pathologist also confirmed both women were tortured before being killed,as indicated by the various cuts on their arms and legs of varying length and depth. She also confirmed traces of drugs used to subdue were found in the toxicology for both victims.

“SOCOs have confirmed that they could not recover any usable forensic evidence from the bodies, which seems to indicate that he knows what he’s doing and possibly has some knowledge of police procedures. We have viewed all the CCTV from around town and believe we have located the suspect’s vehicle; however again, he’s clever. It’s a plain white transit van, no markings, mud obscuring the registration number, absolutely nothing to identify it from the thousands of vans driving around Colchester. The CCTV catches the van along Cowdray Avenue, turning up North Station Road, then again on North Hill. It travels down the High Street then turns into Castle Street, which is where we lose it.”

“Is there no CCTV covering the castle park area?” Miles asks, shifting in his seat as he tries to get comfortable.

“Nope. The council has decided that apparently a problem area, especially at night, doesn’t require any.” Huffs of laughter quietly escape from several officers, both local and visiting, at the all too familiar tale of councils and their ridiculousness.

“Carrying on, the CCTV shows a man driving, but again, he’s clever enough to cover up, baseball cap on, along with what looks like a balaclava, and wear dark clothing so there’s no standout features that can help.

“We believe that each victim is kept for three days before being dumped. Both victims had been reported missing by friends after a night out. We believe that is where he is finding his victims, tempting them away from friends then drugging and kidnapping them. He’s obviously able to interact normally with these women as neither victim was described as the type to just leave with anyone and without informing their friends.” Jack pauses here and Emerson watches as he grabs a few more papers from his desk to carry on the briefing, thinking that Jack actually reminds him of a younger version of Miles, that same forthrightness about them, just with a mild Scottish accent.

“The first victim, Vanessa Collier, was reported missing on a Monday and the body was found the Thursday. The second victim, Sarah Tuffey, was reported missing on Saturday and the body found Tuesday. There’s a definite pattern emerging and if it continues, it means a person is going to be taken tonight.

“We’ve spoken to the clubs and made them aware. There will continue to be a heightened police presence around town and we’ve issued press releases stressing the dangers about going home with unknown people but as I’m sure we all know, people always think they know best.” Emerson’s glad it seems the talking is about to end as he’s fairly sure his arse has gone to sleep in these chairs and judging by the grimaces on both Miles and Mansell’s faces, he’s sure he’s not the only one.

The briefing winds down and people start to filter out, soon leaving just the team and Jack.

“I’ve made you a copy of the files. Feel free to stay here whilst you look through them, I’ve made sure to book this room out for the rest of the day.” Jack heads to the door, following his own team out, but quickly turns back for a moment.

“Being honest for a second, we’re totally stumped with this case. This guy is leaving no clues and we have no idea where he’s going to strike next or even why he’s doing it. Any help you can give is appreciated, even if we might not like it.” The expression on his face just confirms the fact he doesn’t like asking for help, especially from outsiders, especially from outsiders from London.

Chandler seems to get it as he just states they’ll do what they can and then Jack is gone.

***

They all peruse the files, trying to find the little thing that heads them in the right direction, that helps them save someone’s life. It’s quiet, the only sound the rustling pages and clicking of pens as notes are taken, significant points are mentioned and they try to gather everything together.

The quiet is broken by Buchan clearing his throat.

“I think I know how he is choosing his victims. The post mortem reports both comment on prominent moles on the victim’s face. If we follow the line of thinking that Matthew Hopkins is somehow influencing these murders, then we can look to these moles as a sign.”

The room becomes still and silent as Buchan set out his theory, everyone slowly stopping their work to listen.

“Hopkins believed that all witches had to have a witch’s mark, a place where they could feel no pain. Often this was a birthmark or mole. I believe the perpetrator is looking for these visible signs of being a witch and abducting them to torture them for a confession. I believe that he thinks he is the living embodiment of Matthew Hopkins and that he is continuing on his work.”

***

They break for a quick lunch and Emerson leaves the room to try and locate the canteen or something similar. He wanders down the maze of corridors and twisty stairs until he finds one of the officers that had been in the briefing this morning.

“Uh, can you point me in the direction of the canteen?” The officer, DC Tyhurst, Emerson thinks, look at him then scoffs.

“We don’t have London money here, mate. The canteen’s been closed for years.”

“Right. Can you direct me to any food at all?”

“We’ve got a vending machine for snacks, hot drinks and cold drinks. Take your pick. You’ve also got a Tesco Express five minutes down the road if you don’t want to go into town.”

Emerson can almost feel the hostility coming off in waves and he gets it, he does. They’re invading in on their investigation, probably being seen as trying to take over and the local officers resent this influx of strange detectives and he says much the same to the officer in front of him.

“Listen, I get that you don’t want us here and I understand it but we’re just trying to help, we’re not planning on conducting the investigation ourselves or taking over.”

“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice bloke but your lot being here is basically our higher ups admitting they don’t trust us to solve the case and we don’t really appreciate it, okay?” And with that, he stalks off and Emerson is left; lost and still hungry.

***

After spending all day in the stuffy conference room, with panic alarms and sirens constantly going off, Emerson is glad to be back in the hotel room, blessed silence surrounding him. He heads for the shower, allowing the water to cleanse him of the grubby feeling this case is giving him. The knowledge that they have nothing on this guy, along with the things the girls went through before death, makes him feel small, like they can do nothing to help until the next body turns up.

He turns his thoughts away, knowing that no good comes of dwelling on what can’t be changed yet.

As they turn, they turn to Joe. He only allows himself to think of Joe properly in the quiet, solitary moments, especially now, especially after Morgan. He knows that Joe has forgiven him, has said before that there is nothing to forgive but that doesn’t change how Joe has been with him. Cautious and distant and different from how he was with the others. Emerson hopes that it’s changed, hopes that the stilted and interrupted conversation from this morning means that things can get back to normal and Emerson can go back to his quiet longing for something that will never happen.

***

Dinner turns out to be wonderful, food lovely and easy conversation flowing between all of them, trying not to touch on the case, just being out of Whitechapel allowing everyone to relax that little bit. After, Mansell heads out into town, apparently to ‘help keep an eye on the people out there in Colchester’ but they know him well enough to know exactly what he means. Buchan heads out as well, off to meet an old friend of his, the resident ghost tour guide of Colchester’s dark streets. Or at least that’s how Buchan describes him to the team. Emerson has a feeling he was trying to persuade everyone to go on a tour but he’s unsuccessful and leaves alone. Meg and Miles head to their rooms, needing contact with their families and then it’s just him and Joe.

“Did you want to grab a drink in the bar, sir?”

“That sounds fine. It is after office hours by the way, Kent, there's really no need to call me sir.”

“Right, sir. Um, sorry.” Joe chuckles and Emerson relaxes a fraction.

He relaxes more as they consume the drinks brought over to them, an unusual thing to find in a hotel bar but nice all the same, the barman smiling at him every time.

They drink nothing too hard, nothing that would leave them drunk and unable to focus tomorrow but he’s pleasantly mellow, molding himself to the surrounding armchair. They’ve been chatting, only harmless and insignificant topics however Emerson can’t help himself.

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour during-”

“Emerson, I really don’t need to hear it. It was not your fault and I should not have been taking my feelings out on the team, especially not out on you. You have nothing to apologise for and I refuse to allow you to finish that sentence.” Joe looks at him and holds his gaze, even as Emerson wants to drop his, not sure he can hide himself but he’s saved as Joe abruptly turns his face to the bar and states that it’s getting late and they should probably head off.

They walk up together, not talking but it’s a pleasant silence anyway. As they reach their rooms, Joe says a soft good night, which Emerson returns but as he looks up as he heads into his room, he meets Joe’s eyes once more and he can’t stop the tiny ball of hope that’s now residing within him.

***

He wakes suddenly, unsure as to why, and glances at the clock, the time reading three in the morning. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he notices a figure in the chair across from him. He turns his head quickly and finds himself facing a pale lady, outfitted in servant’s clothes, a calm look on her face as she watches him back. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, still not entirely sure he’s not still asleep. They stay like that for minutes, Emerson barely blinking and the lady (ghost, which Emerson won’t allow himself to think) just watching. He knows he has to break the cycle but can’t, too afraid of closing his eyes for fear of something worse happening when the figure rises from the chair and glides over, without sound, and gently touches his forehead then disappears.

Emerson doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

***

As they meet downstairs the next morning, the first thing commented on is how awful he looks.

“Did you sleep at all, love?” Meg asks, constantly caring.

He mumbles something in response, glad that they had to leave sharpish to get back to the station so he doesn’t have to answer any more questions as he’s certainly not telling them about the experience last night, no one needs to know anything about that.

They immediately realise something is wrong when they enter the station, sombre mood everywhere, confirmed when Jack finds them and informs them another woman was reported missing last night.

***

They pile all their information together, Buchan presenting his theory, nods coming from the officers in the room, who can see the sense of what’s he suggesting in the face of the evidence already provided.

Jack speaks again, outlining what has happened in the past twelve hours, informing them Rachael Pearson has been reported missing by her friends after they went clubbing. They could give a vague description of the man she was talking to but not enough. They also confirmed she had a mole on her left cheek. His face is grave, the worry obvious, as he sums up the situation.

“She has two and a bit days before she’s killed. She’s going to be tortured and then she’s going to be drowned. We need to find her.”

***

She wakes up in a cold room, left in just her skirt and vest top, all her other clothes and belongings missing. She sits up slowly, trying to remember where she is and how she got here. She remembers talking to a guy, absurdly interested in her mole, and it’s then that things get a bit blurry. Looking around, she notices the room is bare, apart from loose straw and a wooden chair, with old pieces of rope tied around it. A smell of damp permeates the air, seemingly coming from the chair.

She tries to get up, using the wall as leverage, going slow and allowing her body to try and shake off the wooziness as she keeps to the wall for support, making her way to the door.

It’s only as she tries the handle and it’s locked, that she realises the trouble she might be in.

She sinks back to the floor, not really taking in her imprisonment, head still not clear and she’s unsure how long she sits there before realising that she has to try and get out of this herself. She’s just felt a lone hairpin left in the tangles of her hair when she hears footsteps approaching and quickly takes her hand out, making sure the pin is secure for later.

The door opens and the man, the one she had been talking to, strides in, a grim smile on his face and she instinctively cowers.

He doesn’t say a word as he locks the door behind him then turns to her.

“I’m sorry but you need to be tested.”

“Wait, tested for what, what are you doing, please just let me go and I won’t tell, I promise, I promise, please, please!” Her pleading gets louder as her mind works overtime even as her body is pliant, still groggy from the drugs. He just ignores her cries and drags her to the chair, secures her with the ropes, then produces a small carving knife.

“You have the witch’s mark but I must be sure, I must test you, I can’t make any mistakes. He would be very angry with me.”

“Who? Who would be angry, please talk to me, you don’t need to do this, please just talk to me.”

“No, don’t try to tempt me with your devilish ways. Mr Hopkins told me all about witches like you, how you try to deceive with your tongue but it won’t work, not on me. I’ve been given the gift to detects witches. Witches just like you.” And with that, he cuts her arm, blood immediately welling to the surface and spilling over her skin, scream cut off by a gag being forced into her mouth.

***

He finally stops after blood has been spilt from every limb.

“Do you wish to confess to being a witch?” She’s still gagged but shakes her head weakly.

“Very well. I will allow you to think on your sins tonight and tomorrow we shall find out if you will float like the heathen you are.”

***

It’s a fruitless day with no good leads appearing and the knowledge that every hour that passes is another hour the woman doesn’t have.

They all head back to the hotel, quiet and all wanting an early night apart from Emerson but he also doesn’t want to tell about last night, sure in the knowledge that mostly good natured ribbing would erupt from the others about his ‘ghost’. The problem is that he can’t help but feel last night was real, that the lady in the chair was real, as real as a ghost can be, and it scares him because they deal with supernatural shit all the time at work but there’s always a human connection, always something flesh and bone behind it.

He wanders back downstairs after he’s sure everyone is settled in the their room and goes to the bar, hoping someone can shed some light on any hauntings in this place. The bar is quiet, a couple of people lounging in the surprisingly comfortable chairs, nursing drinks. The barman from last night is leaning against the beer pumps, watching as Emerson approaches him.

“Can I grab a beer please?” Emerson settles himself on a bar stool as the drink is poured and placed in front of him.

“There you go.” He goes to pay and the barman waves it away.

“You look like you need it so have it courtesy of me. I’m David, by the way. So, what’s your question?”

He looks up at David, startled.

“You’ve got that look mate, confusion all over that pretty face.”

“Um, thanks. I think.” A low chuckle from David interrupts him and he can feel his face burning, just a little as he carries on speaking.

“Is this hotel haunted?”

“Ah, which ghost have you met then? There’s three that inhabit this place, though Alice is the most frequent. She’s always hanging around.” Emerson watches as David describes the possible suspects for his night time visitor and is struck by how attractive he is. Not his usual type, and nothing like Joe. But lovely all the same, strawberry blond hair and blue eyes that keep catching his as he tells his story.

“A lady, sitting in the armchair, just watching me. She seemed calm and...sad.” He doesn’t mention the touching of his skin, still unsure of himself in that one.

“Yep, that’s Alice. Murdered in the seventeenth century and haunted here ever since. They bricked up the room where she was killed, hoping that it would stop her from wandering but nothing has. She’s still here, still waiting to be set free.”

Emerson is glad to know he’s not going completely crazy but it doesn’t calm him for the night to come so he stalls for a bit, not wanting to head up there just yet.

“So who are the other ghosts then? You mentioned three, didn’t you?”

“Ah, wanting a bit more information then? Or just wanting to spend time in my lovely company?” David flashes that infectious smile at him once more and Emerson can’t help but smile back as David continues.

“Well, of course there’s Alice. She has a very sad story and she often visits people or haunts the hallways.

“Our second ghost is the hooded monk. He was believed to have been killed in a fire, several hundred years ago, apparently whilst trying to save children in his care. You should be okay though, he tends to stick to reception and the odd corridor.

“Our third and final ghost is that of a small boy. No one knows where the ghost has come from or how he died but he quite often turns up in photos so again, you should be okay for that sighting.” David finishes with a quick bow and again, Emerson can’t help but smile at him.

“How many people have asked you about this? You seem pretty knowledgeable about the ghosts in this place.” David grins at him.

“Oh, lots have asked, that’s why I’m so clued up. But no one as cute as you, I have to say.” Emerson just shoots him a look, fully aware of the flirting now as David carries on speaking.

“You know, if you wanted any company to make sure the ghosts don’t scare you, well, just let me know.” David pushes a small piece of ripped paper with his mobile number towards Emerson. “I have called this right, haven’t I? You’re not going to tell me you’re one hundred percent straight?”

“No, you have it right and thank you for the offer. Any other night I might have considered it but I think I need to just sleep tonight.”

“Well, keep the number and if you’re ever back here, let me know.” David looks at him one last time, smiles approvingly as Emerson picks up the paper and pops it into his jacket pocket then heads out the back.

***

He makes his way downstairs the next morning, shattered, unable to sleep after a second encounter with Alice. He was untouched this time but he can’t shake the feeling of terror even though there is no maliciousness in her appearances.

He can see everyone’s reactions, Joe’s face showing stark concern, sure he looks as horrid as he feels but he still can’t bring himself to mention his late night visitor and he waves away their questions, a muttered ‘didn’t sleep well’ not really doing the job but doing enough for them to filter their way out of the building. Of course, all that is forgotten as that tiny slip of paper from last night falls out of his pocket, right in front of Mansell’s feet.

“Who’s David? Some fella you picked up last night, you crafty dog? Never knew you had it in you.” Mansell then lets out a dirty chuckle, clearly realising his innuendo, whilst everyone else rolls their eyes at him.

“Shut up, Mansell. And no, he’s the barman from the hotel, nothing happened and there is no need for any further discussion, all right?” He walks quickly on from the others, just knowing the expressions on their face and really not needing to see it. He happens to catch a glance of Joe’s though, an almost disappointed look and Emerson really doesn’t need that today.

***

She’s allowed herself to rest, let the cuts close slightly, let the bleeding mostly stop before getting up on her feet and heading back to the door. She had watched the man as he locked the door and it’s his bad luck he happened to chose a girl who knows her way around a lock. She slides the hair pin out, straightens it and stops, listening for any sign he’s out there. It’s quiet so she places the pin in the lock, using all her knowledge to hear the click that’s going to allow her freedom.

There the click goes and she stands, leaning on the wall, hand loosely wrapped around the handle, still listening, always listening as she slowly turns the doorknob, opens the door and peers out to find nothing there. She leaves the room, stumbling down the short corridor with light filtering in at the end, constantly glancing around, making sure she’s alone.

And then she’s outside, the roar of a truck slowly disappearing giving her hope that she can make it. She allows herself a minute’s rest, wounds still sticky and legs still that little bit wobbly then off again. Cautious all the while, she heads towards the small copse she can see, trees offering protection and a way out, she hopes.

***

“We might be in luck, finally. A CCTV camera in the club was viewed by our detectives last night and we think we might have a capture of the man she left with. Not the best quality but enough that we can issue it to the press and get his image out there.”

With that, they all depart, leaving the Whitechapel team alone again, though a couple of officers do pop their heads back in asking if they need anything, a thawing between the two teams from the initial frostiness as they realised that actually, these new people might actually be able to provide some useful information. Chandler answers in the negative and then turns to Buchan.

“Ed, is there anything else you can think to add that might help them locate the killer?”

“All I can tell you is that wherever the girl is being held, there will be a body of water. He is testing them, drowning them and that is not something that will be done in a public area. My guess is he will have his own land with his own water and we need to find it soon.”

***

She moves slowly round the inner edge of the trees, looking out, spotting a small lake in the distance that sends a shiver through her, the man’s taunting words coming back. She keeps close to the wood, a possible shelter if needed, ears tuned to any noise. Once she’s out of sight of the barns, she picks up her pace, urgency taking over her now, aware that she’s closer to safety. She hears the sound of a car engine and her throat closes, the fear that she’s going to be found but she creeps past the bushes and realises that she’s on the edge of a road, that the car sound could be a way out of here. She continues creeping closer until she can be seen by motorists, a calculated risk.

A car stops for her, distracted by her waving arms and hysterical look, asks if they can help and she burst into tears, shock and relief finally catching up to her as she realises she’s safe.

***

It all tumbles after that. The news filters through to Joe and the team, updates coming sporadically as warrants are issued and executed, places searched and a suspect arrested. They know they’re not going to get much more today, the investigation team too busy to deal with them.

Jack does pop his head in just after lunch to let them know they can leave for the day.

“Listen, are you guys all right with hanging around for another day? You’ve actually been a great help and I want you to know what’s going on with all of this before you leave but as you can imagine, it’s absolutely crazy right now.”

“That’s fine. We can get our things together and have a relaxing team dinner knowing that the killer been caught, “ Miles answers, relieved smile answering for everyone.

They all head out of the station, a couple of free hours improving the mood considerably. They’re discussing what they’re going to do as they wander into town, Riley saying she going to head for the shops to grab some bargains while Miles and Mansell state they’re heading to the pub. Buchan doesn’t really say anything at all, just acts mysterious which immediately gets Mansell curious.

Before they all disappear, everyone agrees to meet for dinner back at the hotel. As people wander in their directions, Emerson can hear Mansell start to hound Buchan, interrogating him on who he’s meeting and he smiles to himself as he starts for the hotel. However Chandler grabs at Emerson’s arm, making him stop and turn to face him.

“Sir?”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve seemed out of it for the past day.”

“I’m fine, sir, just a bit tired. I’m still capable of working.”

“Of course you are, I wasn’t challenging that, I just wanted to make sure you were-that you were all right.” Emerson glances up at Joe, their faces close, bodies closer as Joe hasn’t let go of Emerson’s arm, fingers curled around the elbow and it all makes Emerson tell a little bit of the truth.

“I can’t sleep very well right now, my room is… noisy at times and I’m finding it hard to rest but I’ll be fine. Once we’re back in Whitechapel, I’ll be fine.” Joe just looks at him then nods and releases his arm.

“Well. I’ll see you back at the hotel?”

“You will, sir.”

***  
Emerson doesn’t bother exploring the town, just wanders back to the hotel, hoping that a few hours sleep in the daytime means it won’t be interrupted by cool touches and the shaky feeling of being watched. He sinks into his bed, allowing the comfort of the heavy blankets to lull him away, decent rest waiting for him.

He wakes after three hours, undisturbed and a faint smile on his face.

***

Meg goes straight to the shops, ready to indulge in some retail therapy after this awful case. She wanders into the independent ones, happy to support these types of retailers with all their unique items and picks up presents for her girls. She also buys something for her husband, missing him and their girls and just wanting to be home with them now, wanting to see their faces and have their cuddles. She shakes off her sudden melancholy and heads for the glorious cafe she can see, window full of cakes, ready to be purchased for her and her team.

She get a selection of cakes, indulges in half of the chocolate mousse and some fresh coffee whilst in the cafe then decides to go back to the hotel so she can indulge in the rest of the cake at her leisure.

***

Buchan manages to shake off Mansell like the irritating dog he is, and hurries off to meet Pete, his ghost tour guide friend. They meet for a drink in the Bull, settling in for a couple of hours of more catching up.

“So, has anyone said anything about a ghost at the hotel?” Pete asks.

“No! Honestly, I booked us all into this hotel on your recommendation for it’s high ghost activity and nothing! Although I have to say, one of the team, a DC Kent, has been looking tired and he keeps saying he hasn’t been sleeping well. Hmm,” Buchan looks like he’s working out a puzzle after this comment, thinking that maybe Emerson hasn’t been completely honest with the team.

“Well, what number is he in?”

“I believe he’s in room five or six.”

“Aha! Those are the rooms Alice haunts, he must have seen her! You must ask him, Ed.” And Ed considers this before his reply.

“No, I can’t ask him. If he hasn’t volunteered the information, then he clearly doesn’t want anyone to know. I won’t pressure him with any questions. It would not be fair.”

That’s the end of that conversation and they quickly move onto the spirits that inhabit the pub they are currently drinking in.

***

Miles and Mansell walk straight to the pub, get the drinks in and plonk themselves in front of the massive television currently showing some kind of sport and do not move for the next three hours unless it’s for a refill and do not speak unless it’s sport related.

***

David the barman is back behind the pumps when everyone goes to order their drinks to take to dinner.

Emerson is last to order, the others already sitting in the waiting area, and he can feel everyone watching him as he give his order, especially Joe, who has a stern look on his face as if he doesn’t approve.

“Your boss man doesn’t look happy with you. Or is he just not happy with me paying attention to you? He sure didn’t look this cross when I served everyone else.” That cheeky grin appears again but Emerson can only smile faintly back.

“It’s not like that, trust me.”

David just raises an eyebrow, pushes the drink across and says, “Whatever you say, my lovely.”

***

Dinner is quiet but easy, everyone safe in the knowledge that a killer has been caught and a girl has been saved. Conversation flows, as does the alcohol as the stress of the past couple of days is washed away. They’re tucked away in a tiny, secluded corner, no one able to overhear them bar the waiter, who doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to them anyway.

Emerson feels a light touch on his hand and looks up at Meg.

“You all right, hun?”

“I’m fine, I had a rest when we left the station and I’m feeling better now.”

“Good. You were looking drawn. It’s not a good look on your pretty face.” Meg grins at him, then glances at Chandler who has been watching them whilst conversing with Miles but then quickly turns his head away again. Meg raises an eyebrow at Emerson, who can feel himself blush faintly before telling Meg to shut up, knowing that she’s still laughing internally at them all.

 

***

He wakes at one, knowing without looking that Alice is sitting in the chair, watching him, a cool chill invading the air. Emerson can’t take any more and he bolts from his bed, straight out the door to Chandler’s room, knocking firmly until he hears movement inside. Joe opens the door, a quizzical and annoyed look on his face, until he notices Emerson standing there in just his boxers looking distraught. Joe ushers him in and sits him down on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of him.

“Kent, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep because of Alice. She’s sitting there and watching me and touching me and I can’t sleep and I just need to sleep.”

“Who’s Alice?”

“The ghost.” Emerson looks up then, sure that Joe is questioning how much he’s been drinking and is about to chuck him out to sleep it off but instead his face is soft and concerned.

“Not that I don’t believe you but what do you mean?”

“It’s why I’ve been tired and looking as wrecked as I feel. For the past three nights, I’ve woken in the early hours and found this figure sitting in the chair watching me and occasionally stroking my forehead. I spoke to the barman, who confirmed there have been numerous sightings of Alice, the ghost.” Joe’s look turns sharp at the mention of the barman.

“Is that why you have his number? The barman?”

“One of the reasons but not really an important thing right now, sir.”

Joe glances down and says softly, “Please don’t call me sir when you’re in my room half naked.”

Emerson starts, thoughts of the ghost lost for a second as he tries to make sense of that comment.

“I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” Joe stands up and wanders to the window, watching the world carry on.

“I know what everyone thinks of me, How strange I am with my habits, how rarely I connect with other people, with women but I can’t change these things and I’m happy with how they are, even after Morgan’s death.

“I’m also aware that you have developed some of my behaviors and that you might have developed a bit of crush on me, which Miles has discussed with me a few times now trying to make sure I’m aware of that as well. I am, of course I am, and I know that you think you want me but it’s just hero worship making you think you feel more than you do-”.

Emerson interrupts.

“I’m old enough to be able to judge my own behaviour and my own feelings. Yes, I might have started copying you in some things but nothing that I wouldn’t want to adopt. I realise I’m the youngest on our team and that people occasionally think I need coddling but trust me, I’m not as weak as you might think.

“I’m a grown man, who has had grown up relationships, I know myself and I know it’s more than a crush. I can hold it in, hold it together ninety percent of the time but I lose it slightly when someone comes along that can take your attention away and I end up hating my own behaviour. So don’t you dare suggest that it’s just a little crush, I know myself more than you.”

Joe is silent, taking this in when Emerson continues talking.

“I also don’t understand what any of this has to do with my being in my underwear.”

“I have always followed you more, Emerson, more than any of my officers, wanting you to do well, upset when I thought you had betrayed me, angry when your actions have caused me hurt because it shouldn’t be like that. You shouldn’t be able to affect me like this. So I allowed myself to be distracted by the various women Miles pushed me towards but then that ended in pain as well. It’s an easier decision to be alone than be hurt but I’m still weak and seeing you like this, it reminds me of what I want and can’t have.”

“But you can. You can have this, I allow it. Do I not get a say in deciding this? Can I not also say that I want you too, that I always have and that you can allow yourself this.”

Emerson stands and goes to Joe, barely any space between them, leans up and whispers, “I allow you to have this.”

Joe seems to lose control then, the dam breaking with Emerson’s words. He brings their lips together and pushes them both against the post of the bed. It digs into Emerson’s back but the pain grounds him, keeps him alert to everything going on as Joe keeps kissing him, hand curving around his neck, fingers twisting into Emerson’s curls. His other hand sliding from Emerson’s waist, dipping in the band of his boxers, his long fingers brushing the side of Emerson’s cock, eliciting a moan. The sound make Joe’s confidence grow as he removes his hand and spits in it, with only the smallest look of unease, then his hand is sliding in fully, wrapping around and twisting, every move made bolder by Emerson’s groans. They slip out of their underwear, skin to skin contact desperately needed.

Emerson wants his hands on Joe, his own fingers exploring the acres of skin in front of him, hand heading south until Joe stops them, lifts him so their cocks are lined up, Emerson’s legs wrapped around his waist, head knocking against the bedpost as they move against each other, both knowing it’s not going to last long.

Emerson comes first, Joe not long after, his moans muffled in the curve of Emerson’s neck as they come down, Emerson slowly unwrapping his legs, Joe catching him as he drops then he settles them both on the bed, curled around each other, fingers intertwined and resting on Joe’s chest, Emerson’s fingertips slowly stroking over the skin of Joe’s knuckles.

“Please stay tonight.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Joe.”

Conversation is done with after that, both drifting off to slumber, mess be damned and Emerson is going to remember this little orgasmic tidbit about Joe, when he feels a strange sensation. He looks up and Alice is standing there besides them and Emerson starts to freeze. However she looks between the two of them, lightly brushes the curls from Emerson’s forehead and smiles before fading away.

Emerson closes his eyes and feels he’s been given a blessing of sorts.

***

Emerson opens his eyes the next morning to see Joe still in bed, awake and watching him.

“Hello.”

“Emerson.”

At the tone in Joe’s voice, Emerson starts to sit up, sure that this is going to end badly.

“Did you want me to leave?”

“No! I just-I’m not very good at dealing with these things, I never have been. I just wanted to make sure that you were still okay with it.” Joe looks away then, as if unsure as to Emerson’s answer.

“Of course I am, I’ve wanted you for years. Now I finally have you, do you think I’m going to give it up just like that? I told you, you’re allowed this and I’m allowed this too.” There’s a hesitant smile on Joe’s face but a smile all the same, which is enough for Emerson.

“You do realise we won’t be able to tell anyone? I’m still your superior and although it’s not technically against the regulations, I’m not sure the Commander would be too happy with us.”

“It’s fine, I don’t care. The team will know within about five seconds and they won’t judge us and that’s all I need. Well, Mansell might be in smutty joke heaven for several weeks but that’s no different to usual so I think I can cope.”

And with that, Emerson looks at the clock and realises they have plenty of time before they need to grab breakfast with the others. He moves from under the sheet to straddle Joe, leaning down for a kiss, their fingers meeting and twisting together above their heads.

***

They are waiting for the arrival of Jack, eager to be fed information then head home, all of them missing their natural hunting ground. Emerson is professional and so sits in the uncomfortable chairs, quietly chatting with Riley and he doesn’t look over to Joe, doesn’t meet his eyes quickly, a small smile shared between them and doesn’t then glance back in time to catch Meg’s knowing grin just as Jack enters.

“Right, I appreciate you guys are going to want to get back so I’ll keep it short. Information is coming in constantly but I can give you a general overview of what we know so far.

“The suspect, John Burton, has been arrested. He’s currently been deemed mentally unfit for interview so we haven’t been able to obtain anything from him, though it’s unlikely he would be saying anything anyway. A search of the grounds unveiled several significant items including a chair with ropes looped around the legs and back, several knifes with blood on them, a white transit with muddy plates and a large pond. Just as you said there would be.” He looks at Buchan, a nod of thanks.

“We’re still waiting on forensics, most of which is going to take weeks but early indication show the blood on the knives match all three victims. We found several forensic and true crime books in the house, some with passages highlighted, explaining how he managed to dump the bodies with so little evidence on them.”

“Any idea of motive?” Chandler asks.

“As I said, we haven’t been able to talk to the suspect but some papers recovered from the house are starting to show what could have been behind the killings. The suspect’s mother suffered from delusions, claiming she was a witch and that people were persecuting her. She was sectioned and she committed suicide three weeks ago.

“At the same time, it looks like he had been researching his family tree and found out he was a descendant of Matthew Hopkins. We think both of these events triggered the response in the suspect and he decided he had to find the real witches to get them to confess to atone for his mother’s death.”

The team digests all this information, silence reigning in the room.

Jack clears his throat.

“I’m heading back to the incident room so are you guys okay to leave here?”

“Yes, thank you for telling us what you know so far. I’d like to be kept updated as it progresses, if you don’t mind,” Chandler asks.

“Of course, I’ll arrange it. Thanks again for your help.” And with that, after a shaking of hands, Jack leaves and the team are left alone once more.

“So, everyone ready to get back to the real world?” Miles asks, leading the team out. Emerson and Joe are the last to leave and they linger, Joe holding them back.

“I would like to take you to dinner when we get home, will you allow me to?”

And Emerson smiles, glances around ensuring they’re completely alone and leans up, kisses Joe lightly and says yes.


End file.
